


Dancin' In Your Levi's (Drunk Under a Streetlight)

by writeyourheart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Underage Drinking, anyway everyone is drunk, i did not check grammar :/, kind of a messy ending but i wrote it at like 4 am so we'll see how this goes when i wake up tmr, the party goes to a party!, will is responsible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: When El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin and Will are invited to the biggest birthday party of the year, they can't seem to say no — even if some of them want to.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	Dancin' In Your Levi's (Drunk Under a Streetlight)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess. like a literal mess of everything so i wish u guys good luck reading! its just a bunch of messy thoughts and i wrote this over months and i posted it at 4 am so. i apologize in advance if you're reading this before I edit it tomorrow.

**Dancin' In Your Levi's** **(** **Drunk Under a Streetlight)**

* * *

The flyer between El’s hands was pink, and thin, and slightly creased, but the lettering was big and bold and impossible to ignore — it curled its way up to the very corners of the page, almost too big for the size of the hand-out itself.

“Friday night!” Isabella Irvine had chided at the very end of first period. A perfectly manicured hand planted the sheet against her desk and handed her a wide, flashy grin that overtook half of her face. “Hope you can make it. Everyone will be there!”

_Everyone? Who was “everyone?”_

Unsure what to say, she’d quickly nodded as Isabella carried on handing out flyers to every other person she could reach.

It didn’t take quite long to figure out what she had meant by everyone, either. Between first and second period, another pink flyer was shoved into her face as Mae Irvine waltzed right up to her.

“Did you get one yet, El?” Mae’s blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail so tight, El felt her own head begin to ache at the sight of her. “This Friday! _Everyone_ will be there.”

Nodding hastily, El reached back into her locker to grab the flyer she’d buried within a binder and wagged it by Mae’s face. “Got it.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Mae chirped, her hand momentarily pressing against El’s shoulder as she walked right past her. “Can’t wait to see you there!”

She didn’t have the time to say anything else, because Mae seemed to disappear within the crowded hallway as quickly as she’d emerged by El’s locker. Finally feeling like she could breathe, El’s eyes scanned over the sheet with intention this time.

**BELLA AND MAE’S 16TH BIRTHDAY BASH!**

**BRING ALL YOUR FRIENDS, BOOZE WILL BE SUPPLIED, BUT FEEL FREE TO BRING YOUR OWN!**

**FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25** **TH** **, 1987**

**8:00 PM- 3:00 AM**

**2788 IRIS AVENUE.**

“Wow, you’ve only got _one_?” a mocking voice muttered by her ear. Max knocked open the locker next to El’s, hair flying across her shoulder as she whipped a textbook against the metallic shelf. Her right hand, however, was still pressed against the locker door — multiple pink flyers lodged within the spaces of her fingers. “I’ve got five!”

El blinked as Max shoved the locker door shut. “They’re handing these out like Halloween candy. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone without at least one of these yet.”

“Sounds like a big party,” El simply said. Gently, she folded Mae and Isabella’s flyer within her agenda, catching up to Max as they shuffled towards second period algebra. Max’s eyes were still glued to one of her five sheets — index finger running across the lettering as if the words would absorb their way into her system by mere touch.

“I don’t even think ‘big’ is the right word for this.” Max’s eyes settled on hers for the first time that day— wide and excited and brilliant, and El suddenly realized that “everyone,” meant her best friend, too. “This is…monumental, El.”

“Monumental?”

“Yeah, like…Really big — and not just by size.” Max swung open the classroom door, and as they clambered their way towards their seats, El spotted what felt like a million hints of pink across the room — wrinkled within textbooks, peeking out from open pockets, flying out from hand to hand. “It’s big because it’s important, and significant, and…. Well, monumental.”

“Oh,” El said plainly, reaching out for her notebook as Max kept her hands glued to the sheet planted right against the middle of her desk.

“Parties like this don’t happen every day, y’know.”

“I guess.” Max’s head twisted towards El, a deadpan expression scribbled across her features.

“You guess?” Max asked. El shrugged, and she could feel Max’s breath against the side of her face as she let out a long sigh. “Did they have events like this on the daily back in Illinois, or something?”

“No,” El starkly retorted. Illinois was nothing but trees, and red-brick buildings that reminded her of Hawkins, but never were. It was small talk with other students, and the worst grades she’d ever gotten. There was only ever Will (which was comforting). But there was no Max, or Dustin, or Lucas. No Hopper. No Mike. No powers, either. Illinois was nothing but a shadow of Hawkins — a bitter reminder of what she’d lost in the summer of ‘85 — nothing but a gloominess that made her time there feel like it stretched out for infinity, and that made loneliness feel permanent.

The only monumental part about Illinois was leaving and coming back home. 

“So, then where’s your excitement?” Both of Max’s hands came up to grasp at her face, her thumbs pressing themselves against the corners of her mouth in order to force up a tight, sore smile. El couldn’t help but laugh against her fingers, and a real smile quickly replaced the one Max had implemented.

“There it is! that’s the energy I was going for,” Max giggled. Her hands fell from El’s cheeks and landed on her wrists, squeezing eagerly. “We _have_ to go, El. It’ll be our first real high school party. Don’t you want to go to a party?”

Of course, she did; she liked going to parties. She’d gone to Mike’s surprise birthday party at the Byers’ when they were fourteen, and Lucas’ sixteenth birthday party was only a few weeks ago. But she’d never been to a party like _this_. Nothing with more than fifteen people. Nothing that involved pretty pink flyers with big, bold lettering embedded from corner to corner.

El’s eyes scanned the room — everyone was babbling quickly before class started. She didn’t have to try and eavesdrop. She already knew what all of them were talking about.

“Yeah,” El said, her eyes landing upon the sheet Max had left astray. Sunlight bled in through the classroom window and poured itself across her desk, turning the pink blindingly white — nearly golden. “I do.”

Max’s smile grew impossibly wide, and suddenly, she was blindingly golden, too.

“So,” Max beamed. “What should we wear?”

* * *

They were sitting at the lunch table when Max announced her plan for Friday, and El watched Lucas and Dustin swallow up every word that fell from her lips.

“Steve should drive us there,” She’d said, her fingers plucking the tomatoes out from her sandwich and dropping them into the tinfoil pressed against her lap. There was a sudden pause as she raised her eyebrows mid-thought. Dustin was nodding hastily, wide-eyed and beaming as Lucas eyed his denim jacket for stains he’d need to be rid of before Friday arrived. “And give us a lift back, too. I’ll sleep over at El and Will’s so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to my house and back. Maybe you can both sleep at Mike’s?”

Dustin and Lucas’ heads snapped towards Mike. Or at least, what was visible of him. His face was buried against El’s neck, and his arms were tightly twined around her waist as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. Sometimes, on bad nights, or long days, that’s how it felt for her, too: like holding onto Mike was the one thing that kept her grounded — kept her steady.

“Helloooo,” Dustin called out, reaching across the table to shove his finger onto Mike, poking at his ribcage. “Earth to Wheeler. Did you hear  _ any _ of this?” He stirred against El’s shoulder, and she could feel him groan into her skin.

“Yes,” he mumbled, and El wondered if the others could understand him at all from the way his words were muffled by her neck. “Unfortunately.”

Will, sat on El’s other side, inched himself closer towards her ear. “What’s wrong with him?” He whispered.

“Failed his Spanish test,” she’d answered, and Mike groaned against her neck again. He pulled himself up suddenly, his hair flopping upright against his forehead. Immediate coolness replaced the warmth of Mike’s breath against her skin, and goosebumps crawled their way up her arms from the loss of him.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” Mike pleaded, his elbows plopping against the table and his head burying itself within his hands. El reached out to place a hand against his back, and she felt him soften.

“Mike, no one cares about your Spanish grades,” Max said.

“My parents beg to differ.” He groaned again, and El scooted forward to press her cheek against his shoulder blade. Her arms swung around his waist from behind, and she dug her fingers into the blue cotton of his sweater by his stomach.

“Dude, come on. You’re literally a genius at everything else — You’re good at math, and everyone asks for your help when it comes to essays, and you nearly beat me at science fair last year. Who cares if you suck at Spanish?”

“Dustin, I told you, I don’t wanna talk about it.” There was a sudden silence. Lucas and Dustin were eyeing one another cautiously — as if one wrong move would cause catastrophe, and Will was awkwardly tossing a piece of lettuce around with a fork. Max met El’s eyes from across Mike’s shoulder, and she felt herself shrug gently against his back.

It didn’t take much observation in order to realize the sudden tension that had been orbiting Mike for the last week. He’d snap at Max twice as much as usual, and his conversations with the boys seemed edgy and odd. El knew it had something to do with his parents; the pressure they’d implemented on him since Nancy had gone to NYU at the start of her semester, the newly found expectations they’d been insisting he manage to meet; good grades, staying on the swim team, coming home for dinner at least four times a week, looking for a part-time job. At first, in early September when it had only just started, he’d rant to El nearly every day. He’d complain about how there were no businesses looking to hire high school students in town, and how swim practice took up his homework energy, and how he felt like he never had time to do anything with her besides sit together and study.

Things had changed gradually about Mike’s attitude; his rants grew less frequent, but the stress was still prominent. He didn’t complain, but he still had loads to complain  _ about _ . When it was just the two of them — alone at the cabin, or locked up in the basement — he’d do nothing but wrap her up in his arms and sit silently, the way they did whenever El’s days had been plagued by bad memories, or when her dreams would dissolve into nightmares.

“Do you want to talk about it?” They were tangled up in the fort when she’d asked once. The words weren’t anything foreign. Still, they felt unfamiliar when they fell from her mouth rather than from his. She’d never had to pry for his words before.

She had felt his forehead shake gently against hers; no, he didn’t — and so she didn’t push him any further, because he never pushed her further either, and she knew what it felt like to want to sink into yourself and drown there until you felt safe enough to submerge back to reality. Mike deserved it, too; the quietness. The ability to stay within his own mind at times.

Still, the understanding didn’t stop her from worrying, the same way it never stopped him.

She squeezed her arms tighter around Mike’s torso, planting a kiss to his polyester-covered shoulder blade. 

“Okay — Let’s backtrack then,” Dustin swiftly pressed, clearing his throat. “ _ Friday _ .”

“Let’s not talk about that either.”

Max crossed her arms by her chest and cocked up an eyebrow. “And why not?”

Mike untangled his face from his hands. His eyes were stern and tired, and she could feel the heaviness of his breath from underneath her. “Because,” he deadpanned, “We’re  _ not _ going.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lucas laughed emptily, picking the flyer out from his jacket pocket. “I sure as hell am.”

“Me, too,” Dustin proclaimed. “And I don’t see why you wouldn’t. It’s the biggest party of the year! We’ve never even been to a party like that before.”

“So what?”

“So why don’t you want to have fun?” Max asked.

“I do!” Mike exclaimed, straightening himself up on the bench. El pulled herself away from him with a jolt, but his hand reached out to clutch onto hers from underneath the table. “But I can have fun in my basement, or at the movie theatre, or at the arcade! I didn’t know having fun meant going to some random birthday party.”

“This isn’t just some  _ random _ party, Mike. It’s the biggest party of the year!” Max said. “And I’m not missing it.”

“Fine, then go!” His hand was viced around El’s, and she wondered whether or not he had forgotten how to breathe. He looked towards Lucas and Dustin. “You both, too. Go. I don’t care, I’m not going.”

“Mike,  _ seriously _ ,” Lucas began. There was a sudden softness in his eyes — the kind he never quite realized he was handing; it was calming, and steadying, and El could feel Mike mollify at the sight. “You really should come. And you  _ clearly _ need to have some fun, you deserve it, man.”

“I don’t need to go to a stupid party with a bunch of drunk idiots and bad music in order to have some fun.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to,” Dustin continued, nodding slowly and handing Mike a wide, hopeful grin. “But you  _ should _ .”

Mike frowned, and Dustin’s face fell, and El couldn’t help but feel bad.

Max reached out from across the table to latch her hand around Will’s forearm, his eyes darting from Lucas to Dustin to Max with urgency. “What about you, Will?”

“What…What about me?”

“Are you going to come to the party?”

Dustin, Lucas and Max eyed him expectantly, but Mike was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze.

Slowly, El watched as Will handed them a small, timid nod. “Yeah,” he mumbled cautiously, his jaw tightening. “I’ll go.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, but Max squealed excitedly and detached herself from Will’s arm — Only in order to clasp onto El’s.

She could feel Mike’s hand tense and tighten against hers, as if tugging her back into him, prying her away from Max.

“You’re still coming, right?” Her mouth opened to speak, but no words seemed to find their way out. Mike’s hand slackened against hers, and she felt like she’d betrayed him somehow.

She knew she hadn’t — that she was allowed to make her own decision, to go to a party if she wanted to. But Mike was already acting stiffly, and she didn’t want to make him feel any worse.

But — well — she _wanted_ to go to a party.

Max made it sound dreamy, and electrifying and  _ monumental _ . And she was  _ finally  _ allowed to be out in the world — sure, it was just Hawkins, and when Max told her about California it felt like some sort of pathetic excuse of a town in comparison. Maybe it was. But not to her — not when her world had been limited by white walls, and blinding lights and dreary hospital gowns for eleven years. Not when she’d been locked within the chipped wooden walls of a cabin for three hundred and fifty-three days, drowning within herself in the kind of way that made her feel like she could never choose to submerge.

She wanted it; a taste of freedom, a piece of normalcy she could cut up and puzzle into the mess of her life.

And so, she couldn’t help but answer honestly. Besides, friends didn’t lie. “I…I do.” She squeezed onto Mike’s slackened hand and tried to meet his gaze, but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes latched onto the table.

Lucas and Dustin cheered, and Will handed her a small smile, and Max squealed for what felt like the millionth time that day, gripping El’s forearm, but all El could really notice was Mike’s hand tugging itself out of hers.

The rest of lunch period felt rushed and jumbled; Max had made Dustin promise to call Steve that night to secure their ride, and Lucas had already told her they’d go to the mall on Wednesday to shop for outfits, and Will was already trying to figure out how to ask his mom for permission to go without her going into panic mode. Mike stayed quiet, and he barely acknowledged El until the lunch bell rang, when they were all scrambling out of their seats to make it to class on time. She’d dropped her agenda onto the floor, and he’d picked it up to hand it to her, their fingers brushing as she grabbed it from him.

Their eyes met, and El could see the somber emptiness in his gaze that had been haunting him around for weeks. Her stomach churned with anxiety. She hated seeing him like this, and she couldn’t help but feel partly responsible.

“Thank you,” she said simply. He nodded, and she moved an inch closer to him, the sharpened edge of her agenda pressing against his chest. “Can I still come over? Tonight.”

There was somewhat of a pause — a frightful moment of hesitation — the possibility that he would say no. But eventually, he nodded again, and reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his finger lingering against her skin. Subconsciously, she leaned into his touch and let herself seek comfort from the warmth of his hand.

“Of course.” He smiled softly, then leaned down to press a kiss to her mouth.

“Love you.” It came out rather desperately; like she was trying to cling to him with words, trying to make up for the guilt that welled up within her. Mike seemed to notice, because he pressed another kiss to her forehead in reassurance. It felt calming, and gratifying — and still, she felt guilty, because he needed reassurance now too, and all she could offer him was an anxious ‘I love you.’

“I love you, too,” he answered simply, then withered into the crowded hallway.

* * *

Mike’s parents weren’t home when they arrived, which meant they could spread themselves out across the dinner table to study — textbooks were piled across the length of it, and over half of them belonged to Mike.

“Y’know, I haven’t been doing this for too long,” El began, reaching out to clasp at his forearm from across her. “But I don’t think studying for algebra, biology, and English at the same time is very effective.”

Mike paused to look up at her, and the smile that reached his eyes helped shape her own. He huffed out a breath-like chuckle and used his left hand to lace his fingers with hers from where they sat against his wrist.

“Do you…. Do you  _ really  _ want to go?”

She didn’t have to ask him where, because she already knew what he was referring to. Both their smiles faltered, and a steadiness washed over them — an honest kind that seemed to stem so naturally when they were alone together.

“Yes.” She was nodding, and he was eyeing her closely, like he could read her mind if he stared for long enough. “I do. But...I want you there.”

He shifted in his seat, and his mouth was already starting to move, but El tugged against his wrist and leaned forward, her neck craning above the tabletop.

“You don’t have to — really, I don’t want you to come for me. That’s not fair — and I don’t want you to do something that you don’t want to do. But I want you there because I want to be with you. And honestly, I think you deserve a break. But if you  _ really _ , really don’t want to then we don’t have to—”

“El.” He squeezed her hand, and she was glad that he had said something, because she wasn’t quite sure where to take the rest of what she was saying.

“I — I guess….” He sighed deeply, steadily. “I’ll go.”

“Mike,” El was shaking her head already, hopping up and making her way across the table before planting herself against the seat right next to him. “I don’t want to  _ force  _ you—”

Their knees pressed together. “You’re not forcing me.”

“ _ Mike _ .”

“I’m serious El,” he said. “ _Sure_ , you helped convince me but—”

“Mike!”

“ _But_.” He reached out to cup her face, and she quickly fell silent. “You’re right — And so are Lucas and Dustin…And, _maybe_ Max is, too.”

El’s eyes widened just as Mike mumbled, “And don’t tell her I said that.”

“I won’t,” she whispered quickly, tiny smirk painted across her features. “Just…Promise me you do want to. Like, really — that you’re not doing this for….me.” It sounded silly to say out loud sometimes, but the both of them knew the lengths they’d go through for one another, even if it was something as ordinary as going to a party.

“I promise.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “And maybe I am doing this for you _a little—”_

She scowled at him and he kissed her cheek again to wipe it off her face. “But I’m doing this for me, too. _Really_ , really.”

Sighing, she twined her arms around his neck and tried not to let the excitement that burned within her explode at the seams, but it was useless, because she could feel her grin split her face in half.

“So, will you come shopping with me then?”

Mike chuckled and leaned forward, his lips inches from her own.

“Do I even have a choice?” He asked, but he never quite got his answer.

* * *

The moon hung like a streetlamp in the Friday night sky; full and pouring dim light upon everything it touched — rain had only just washed over the silver-hued streets, leaving the pavement wet, and the air thick and crisp with a freshness that only this time of year seemed to offer.

El’s hand hung out of the car window, fingers spreading out like she could trace the wind as it curled within her hand. The six of them were crammed up in Steve’s car; Dustin was upfront, and Lucas was in the back, on the complete left with Max pressed tightly against the door as Will sap in the middle. El was on top of Mike’s lap, with his arms twined around her waist and the top of her head wedged underneath his chin.

The night hadn’t even really started yet, but the world felt perfect — the normalcy of it all was so absolutely irregular that it flooded her with pride; a piece of something she’d been striving for, the kind of commonplace lifestyle she’d always dreamed of reaching.

“Listen up,” Steve called out — his voice was half drowned out by the music that Dustin had insisted on blaring, but El didn’t care enough to try and pay close attention. “I’m bringing plastic bags tonight, for when I bring you back home—”

“Plastic bags?” Will questioned.

“Yeah, so that none of you get your disgusting puke all over my brand-new car, okay?”

“We won’t get _that_ drunk,” Will stated. Max giggled, and El could hear Lucas laughing, too.

“Maybe _you_ won’t,” Max said, “But I’ve got other plans.”

“Plans to…. Throw up?”

“I’m not leaving it out of the question.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Will groaned just as Steve said, “Well, I’m bringing _her_ two bags.”

They mostly fell into silence for the rest of the ride, Dustin, Max and Lucas singing along to Dustin’s party mixtape while El continued to tread her fingers through the wind. It wasn’t until they were almost there when El felt Will’s elbow poke against Mike’s side, half against her own back.

He leaned close, his voice barely a whisper. “You won’t get too drunk, right?”

She felt Mike shake his head quickly, like he didn’t even need to question it. “Of course, not — I’m not even drinking, dude.”

“What about you, El?”

Her hand stilled from where it moved outside the window, and reluctantly, she dipped it back into her lap. Oh. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“I….” She trailed off, looking towards Mike like he magically could guide her to some simple answer, but his eyes were just as questioning as Will’s. “I don’t know.”

“What if…” Will started, his words slow and hesitant, and Mike had to urge him to continue.

“What if what?”

“If you drink…. Will that affect your powers? Your control over them?”

El froze. She hadn’t even thought about it — the adrenaline and excitement that pooled in from the idea of a party was so all-encompassing that it allowed for her to forget what would actually occur at a party — The normalcy of it all forcing her to momentarily overlook the anomaly of herself.

Suddenly anxiety started to drown out the excitement that seemed so irrevocable only minutes earlier. What if she did drink — drunk like Max wanted to be — and then she couldn’t stop herself from blowing out the lightbulbs or shattering the windows, or worse, hurting someone.

How was she meant to know how she was going to act; she’d never been drunk before, and she was suddenly doubting whether or not she’d ever let herself find out.

It hadn’t occurred to her how heavy her breathing had gotten until Mike’s hands cupped either side of her face, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“El,” he whispered, his thumbs tracing against her cheekbones, “it’s fine — you’ll be fine, we’ll figure out what happens together, okay?”

“ _How_?”

“If you really want to drink then we’ll just go slow. One drink after the other and—”

“And if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen—”

“But what if it _does_?” She felt him tense from under her, catching how doubt flickered within his gaze for half a second, red-reflected from the stoplight that glared into the car and turned all of them crimson-coloured.

Mike opened his mouth to speak, but Lucas managed before he could. “You just have to be careful, that’s all, El. Being drunk isn’t like being possessed, okay. You don’t lose total control — not always, anyway.”

“How do you know?” It slipped out from her tongue before she could stop herself, and Lucas shrugged.

“My cousins are fun at family reunions.”

“You’ve been drunk before?” Max proclaimed, “ _Without_ me?”

“Max, is _this_ really the time—” Apparently it was, because Max had started muttering all kinds of profanities, and Lucas was trying to calm her down, and Dustin was still singing, and Will’s head was burrowed within his palms, but El’s focus was on Mike — one of his hands still against her cheek, her fingers clutching to his dark-denim jacket.

“Lucas is right,” he said quietly, only for her to hear. “You’ll be okay.”

“I want to drink,” she said simply, which really meant, “I want to be normal.”

“And you can,” he promised. “How about we both have our first drink together, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure why, but that felt comforting somehow — like the two of them dealing with the consequences would leave her feeling like she wasn’t as stranded.

“But you told Will you wouldn’t drink.”

Mike shrugged and offered her a small smile. “It’s only one drink.”

“Only one?”

“Only one,” he said again, and that was enough for her to tuck herself back against his chest for the remainder of the ride — enough for normalcy to seep back in through her creases, even if only a few minutes longer. 

* * *

When Max had first used the word monumental, El thought she’d understood its entire definition. It wasn’t until they had arrived at the Irvine house where she realized that, truly, she hadn’t.

Golden lights were twined around the trees that sat perched up by the curved cobble-stone pathway to the house sidelined by pretty green grass, and there were teenagers scattered across the entirety of the freshly cut yard; talking and smoking and already holding bright-red cups that gleamed within parked car headlights. The house itself was an off-white colour that remained piercing, even within the darkness of the night. It stood tall and proud, and El was sure it was at least three stories high, gated away from the other mansions on Iris Avenue.

She could hear the dim drumming sounds of the music from her spot inside the car already, and when she caught the glimmer of excitement laced within everyone’s faces, only then did she truly grasp the meaning of “monumental.”

“I’ll be here to pick you guys up around 1:30.”

“2:00,” Max insisted before shooting herself out of the car. They’d thanked Steve before leaving and watched him drive away while shouting something about plastic bags and throw up.

It was a moment before any of them moved; they’d been standing there, drinking it all up for longer than all of them anticipated. They’d seen parallel-universes, and monsters. They’d seen one friend disappear from thin air and the other possessed by a monster. Yet still, the sight of this left them in awe. A glimpse of good within a sea of disaster. What was so foreign to them was almost always the regularity of others. And so, they stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder and furtively intimidated by the grandness of the normalcy that faced them.

It shocked no one that Max stirred first. She cleared her throat and reached out to clasp at El’s cardigan — the one she’d bought a few days earlier when Max had dragged her, Lucas and Mike to the mall in order to ensure that they, “Looked like people with lives.” It was baby blue and cropped above her hips, somewhat loose against the daintiness of her frame and half-buttoned over a simple white tank top. She’d wanted a new pair of jeans, too, but instead she’d settled for borrowing an old dark-blue denim skirt Nancy had given her before they moved to Illinois.

Max said she looked pretty, but El thought it was nothing compared to how Max looked tonight; her hair was silky, curled against the sleek black leather of the jacket she’d gotten herself at the Gap and tucked above a black pair of jeans and a light green sleeveless turtleneck, a golden pendant hanging against her chest.

When they’d met up, before Steve picked them up, Will took a polaroid of them together, and when El had seen how they looked she couldn’t help but feel good; her hair was curled against her collarbones, and her smile reached her eyes and Max’s arms around her shoulders was tied together with a laugh so genuine she could swear she could still hear through the photo.

If it hadn’t been clear that it was worth begging Mike earlier, it certainly was then.

Will had taken a photo of them, too. Sitting on the Wheeler’s porch while the sun was still setting. El was sitting on the step below Mike, wedged between his legs while his chin sat perched above her hair, their hands clutched together from where El reached out for him, smiles as golden as the sun that set them both aflame.

They had to fight about who got to keep that one.

El won.

“Are you guys coming?” El suddenly realized they were halfway towards the door, while the boys stood glued against the sidewalk like their feet had been screwed to the pavement. Lucas elbowed Mike who was to his left, and then Dustin who was by his right, and then Dustin poked at Will, and finally, the four of them were wandering towards the doorway like they’d just woken up from a hazy dream.

They were already walking back towards the home when, the boys still several feet behind them, when Max’s fingers curled around El’s. “Will you take a shot with me?”

El squinted. “A shot?”

“Yeah,” Max continued. “Like, tequila, or vodka, or rum or whatever the hell Mae’s got in that house.”

“Like, a drink?”

Max squeezed her hand and giggled. “Well yeah — but like, a small one.”

“A small drink?”

“A small drink with a lot to offer.”

El wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but Mike had said they could start with one drink, and Max had said that it was a small one, so she nodded and smiled brightly enough for Max to beam at her like she’d hung the stars from the sky with her bare hands.

They waited for the boys to reach them before they entered, Lucas throwing an arm around Max’s shoulders and El clinging to Mike’s arm like he was going to disappear the second the door opened.

He didn’t, but she couldn’t help her grip from slackening the second Dustin twisted the knob and the inside of the house was presented. People were scattered _everywhere_. The lights were dim, and there were already red solo cups and napkins peppered across the marble flooring. The ceilings were high, and at the very center of the entrance was a huge, crystal chandelier hanging in between two wide, marble staircases that lead to the upstairs. Music was blaring, and El wasn’t quite sure where the sound came from, but it sounded like Madonna, and she could already hear Max singing the words the second she dragged Lucas inside. 

“This is _insane!_ ” Max shouted, reaching over to grasp at El’s arm — the one that wasn’t already tied to Mike. 

“Monumental.” They both laughed, and El could even see a smile spread across Mike’s lips as Dustin pointed out pretty girls from class. He and Suzie never quite made it past the summer of 1985.

“There’s Sarah Goldstein — Oh, and Emma St. Peterson is talking to Riley Herring by the left staircase. Holy shit, Will, are you seeing this?”

Will smiled lightly from behind him — El wasn’t quite she he cared about those girls at all, but nonetheless, he clasped Dustin’s shoulder and said, “You should go talk to them later.”

Dustin beamed at that, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, I absolutely will.”

“Let’s find the kitchen!” 

“What for?” Max was tugging El’s cardigan again, but her grip on Mike stayed firm as she guided them throughout the raging crowds. There were so many people, El couldn’t help but feel like it’d be easy to lose him within a house so big, even if there were only the six of them inside.

“That’s where the drinks are, probably.”

She was right. That was where the drinks were.

The kitchen was big, and bottles of alcohol were spread across the middle island; some already entirely empty, left stranded on the counter, and others that hadn’t even been opened yet. There weren’t too many people in here, seeing as most of them had probably snatched a whole bottle or two for themselves and waltzed off to the basement, or the upstairs, or one of the hundreds of rooms within the building.

“Where are Mae and Bella?” El asked suddenly, realizing she hadn’t seen them at all, which was weird, seeing as it was their birthday. Even despite the countless people, she’d expected they’d be somewhere in sight. “Isn’t it their birthday party?”

“They’re probably around somewhere,” Lucas assured, reaching out for the plastic cups that were perched by a closed bottle of Smirnoff.

“So, they just left people to take their stuff like this?”

“It’s just alcohol,” Dustin claimed. “They have enough money to buy another house like this and fill it with nothing but vodka if they wanted to.”

“Probably two houses of it,” Will added.

Mike scanned the room. A group of senior boys were rolling joints by the dinner table, a handful of girls eyeing them from behind their shoulders to get a good look. “I’d never let this many people — this many strangers — in  _ my _ house.”

Max rolled her eyes and popped the cap off the Smirnoff bottle like she’d been doing it since she was born. “Of course, you wouldn’t, you’re Mike Wheeler.”

“You let  _ me _ into your house.” El looked up at him from where he stood over her shoulder and grinned. “When we hadn’t met before.” 

Mike smiled back at her, his lips pressing against her temple for a split second. “You were one person.”

“Yeah, one  _ crazy _ person,” Lucas added suddenly, and El laughed as she shoved his shoulder playfully. She liked knowing she could joke with Lucas — liked knowing that what he said was laced in what used to be authentic doubt but was now only ever trust and love.

“She wasn’t crazy!” Mike exclaimed. El knew he was joking, too, but there was still that seriousness rooted in him — that honest protection he could never let go of.

“I kind of was.” Lucas laughed, and Mike playfully pinched at her cheek, leaving her giggling just as Max slid her a red cup against the counter. El was certain it was empty until she looked all the way down into it.

“That’s it?” It was clear, like water. El could swear she’d seen other kids have red and orange and purple liquids within  _ their _ cups as they made their way through crowds earlier. What was  _ this _ ?

She was going to ask again, but Mike spoke before she could manage another word. “You’re giving her  _ a shot _ ?” He grabbed the cup from the counter before El could even give it another glance. “Are you crazy, Max?”

“Not as crazy as your girlfriend, apparently.”

“This isn’t funny — She has to be  _ careful _ .”

El didn’t understand. “Mike,” she looked up at him with an honest gaze. “You said we could have a drink?”

“Yeah, like, a mixed drink.” Mike pointed towards the transparent liquid within the cup and frowned. “This is a shot — it’s stronger, it’ll make you drunk faster and—”

“A drink will do that to her anyways,” Max insisted.

“Not like  _ this _ will!”

“Jesus Christ, do you two ever shut up?” Dustin grabbed the bottle from Max’s hands and carelessly poured the vodka into his cup, then suddenly, before any of them moved, downed it all in one gulp.

“ _ Dustin! _ ” They’d all shouted it at once, and even the group of seniors shot them a curious glance before going back to rolling. Dustin gagged the second he’d swallowed, his features scrunched together. “ _ Ew _ ,” he managed plainly.

Max groaned. “What the Hell, Dustin, you’re supposed to wait for us to all take it together!” 

He pointed between her and Mike. “Well, someone had to do  _ something _ for you two to be quiet.”

El eyed him cautiously. “Do you…Feel weird?”

They all stopped to stare, even Lucas, who seemingly had done this before.

Dustin shook his head, his grin as wide as it always was. “I feel just fine.”

“Something tells me you’re a lightweight,” Lucas managed. El didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t bother asking. Instead, she snatched the cup from Mike’s hands and stared down into it as she had before.

“I want to take it,” El pressed. “The shot.”

Mike clenched his jaw, and El could see the way he was already trying to caution his words — trying to make sure that he said what was best in the best way he possibly could.

“El.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, and she could hear Max pretend to gag from across the counter. “Will was right, we still don’t know about your powers — you have to be careful.”

“But Dustin is fine!”

“It hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“And he’ll _still_ be fine when it does,” Max chimed in. El looked at her from across the counter, a small smile painted across both of their mouths. “It’s just _one_ shot, Mike. It won’t kill her.”

She knew what he was thinking — what he wanted to say; that none of them knew that. That El wasn’t exactly like them. She was normal — of course she was normal — but in  _ her _ way. They still had to be careful. But she also knew that Mike would never force her in or out of anything. And this wasn’t an exception to that.

“You really want to?” He asked. His voice was sincere — like he could deal with the outcomes of either options — like he had a plan for everything that could go wrong.

El nodded quickly, one of her arms snaking around his waist. “Yes.”

Mike looked towards Max and the other boys. “Okay,” he said simply.

Max didn’t waste another second after that. She poured five more shots; Dustin’s second being counted as his first for technicality reasons, Max insisted. El was still holding her cup and staring into it like it was magic; it wasn’t bubbly at all — but rather still, and plain, and so boring looking. She brought her nose to it and grimaced. Mike’s warm breath was suddenly against the back of her neck as he watched her, laughing lightly.

“Here you go, boys.” The cups were spread out on the counter. Lucas and Dustin grabbed theirs eagerly, while Will and Mike went in slowly, reluctantly.

Max held her cup above her head and smiled towards El. “To a crazy and monumental night.”

They all pressed their cups together in the center, right above the counter, and repeated Max’s words while _Queen_ boomed throughout the room. El pulled back quickest while paying little attention to the others, pressing the rim to her lips and tilting the cup upwards as fast as Dustin had earlier. She gulped it down like water and let it settle.

Her first thought was that it didn’t taste like water. Not even close. It burned her throat at first, like fire pooling into her stomach. She grimaced the way she had when she smelled the vodka earlier, though it was much worse this time. Intense and all-encompassing.

She could barely watch Mike’s reaction, her eyes half-squinted from her own, but she still caught him scowling and felt him flinch from where his arm was pressed against hers.

It was only a few seconds later when she felt it again; warm and smooth this time, like honey in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t flame-like anymore — more golden — like the molten sunset from the polaroid Will had taken of them earlier. But the feeling of its warmth went as quickly as it came, and after that, all else felt normal.

“That’s _disgusting_ ,” Will groaned first. “How do people get addicted to this shit?”

“It’s not about the taste,” Max said. “It’s the feeling.”

Mike’s fingers laced through hers and squeezed. “Are you okay, El?”

El nodded quickly. “Mhm.”

Mike nodded back, and she could see the way his shoulders relaxed from the authenticity of her response.

“Are _you_ okay?” 

Mike smiled. “Better now that it’s over with.” El smiled at him, both of her arms coming to wrap around his sides, his arm back against her shoulders.

El realized that she really felt nothing at all, now, besides the warmth that had cascaded through her earlier. She couldn’t help but be disappointed, even if maybe it was for the best.

“Okay, so, who wants seconds.”

“ _Max._ ”

“Okay, okay — but how about mixers?”

* * *

  
  


They were in the living room fifteen minutes later — or at least, what El figured was the living room. There were two couches facing each other, and two loveseats wedged within the corner of the wide room. El could finally catch sight of two of the speakers now, right by the television.

People were everywhere, dancing on the coffee table, or kissing up against a wall, or crying and tumbling in the corners, and they had to stand around for ten minutes before a whole couch became available for them to squeeze into. It felt like every young person in Hawkins had found their way here tonight, if not the entirety of Indiana.

They were each holding cups again; Lucas had mixed cranberry juice with the vodka bottle they’d opened and made everyone a drink. El was shocked to find out that maybe alcohol did taste good — it was so different from the shot — sweeter, and smoother, and barely noticeable at all.

They were all still talking when it happened — when Drew Sutherland waltzed into the living room followed by a group of four other sophomore boys. They were all wearing their letterman’s jackets like badges of pride, and when Toby Valentine came up from behind him, El heard a clutter of girls standing by their couch begin to whisper while gazing towards them.

It wasn’t like she knew who they were — everyone did, seeing as they were two of the best athletes on the basketball team.

Lucas knew them better than El, though — better than the rest of them did, seeing as he was on the basketball team, too. The difference, El figured, was that he wasn’t a douchebag like the other boys.

Lucas elbowed Mike suddenly at the sight of them, his eyes widening like he’d seen a ghost. “Holy shit.” His hand was clutched onto the denim of Mike’s jacket, clinging to him the way El would if she wanted his attention. “It’s Drew and Toby and Connor and the other _jerks_.”

“I see that,” Mike said plainly, patting Lucas on the shoulder. The boys turned towards their couch, and when Drew’s gaze found Lucas, the simple, smug smile widened into a wolfish grin. “And _they_ see you.”

“No, no, no, no no — they’re coming over here, are you kidding me? Like they don’t get enough of me in the locker room—”

“Lucas Sinclair!” Drew called out the second he was within arm’s reach, his hand reaching out to give Lucas a handshake. The strength of it pulled him up from the couch entirely, and El heard Max laugh. “What’re you doing here, man?”

Lucas shrugged simply. “Just chilling.”

Toby was eyeing El from where he stood by Drew, a small smirk attached to his mouth. She could barely even see his eyes, seeing as his blonde, shaggy hair was dusted above his forehead, shielding half of his face, but she didn’t like the glimpse she caught of his gaze from beneath the strands. She didn’t think Mike did, either, seeing as he shifted his arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Nice, I’m happy to see you.” It couldn’t have sounded less genuine if the worst actor in the world had said it. He shook Lucas’ hand and smirked again, and El could see how tightly he was holding onto Lucas’s fingers from the way both their knuckles went pale.

“Y’know, Toby and I are always looking for someone to play beer pong with.” Drew pointed a finger towards Toby, but he was still looking at El, and suddenly, she felt Mike hold onto her tighter. “Why don’t you play with us, it’ll be fun.”

Lucas stuttered. “W-Well I don’t know—”

“Oh, c’mon Lucas,” Drew pressed on. “We’re at the biggest party of the year — have some fun with your teammates bro, I’ll even let you bring one of your little friends here.” He looked towards the boys on the couch, mocking and prideful, and El couldn’t help but be the one to reach out and touch Mike’s knee, squeezing reassuringly.

“Okay…Sure, I guess.”

“Awesome!” Drew laughed, walking backwards slowly. “I’ll get the beer in the kitchen — meet me there in five, cool?”

“Uh, yeah!” Lucas stayed standing until Drew, Toby, and the other boys were out of the living room entirely, and when he twisted back around to face them, his eyes met Mike’s with pure desperation.

Mike spoke before Lucas could say a word. “No way!” 

“Mike,  _ please _ .” Lucas flopped himself back onto the couch, his hand against Mike’s shoulder like a vice. “I need you to do it with me — did you see the way he talked to me? The way he looked at you guys?! We’ve got to show them up, man.”

“ _ How _ ?” Mike proclaimed. “Even if I wanted to, I’ve never played beer pong in my life, and I’ll bet you one hundred dollars that I suck at it!”

“You don’t know that!” Lucas insisted. “If you’ve never played before, then how would you even know?!”

“Because I suck at every other sport on the planet?”

“You’re on the swim team!”

“What does that matter — that doesn’t mean I have aim or coordination!”

“Well it means you’re good for something, at least! Just give it a shot, dude, please.”

Mike turned to look at Dustin, who had insisted on having two more shots before they left the kitchen. “What about Dustin? Why don’t you ask him?”

Lucas frowned. “Are you dumb?” Dustin was sitting on the couch with a wide dopey grin, telling Will something about the colour of Suzie’s eyes. “Does  _ that _ look like the kind of person ready to play beer pong against the best basketball players at school?”

Mike shrugged. “It adds character.”

“What about Max?!” Mike claimed suddenly, like he’d come to a genius realization. “Why don’t you play beer pong with Max?”

For a second, Lucas eyed her intently — Hopefully. She scowled at them quickly, though, and Lucas mirrored her.

“There’s no way I’m playing drinking games with those creeps,” Max claimed, taking a sip from her cup and shooting a glance towards El. “And neither is she. Did you see the way Toby was looking at her?”

So, Max had noticed, too. El watched as Mike’s face grew red, and his jaw tightened, and suddenly Lucas was eyeing him with intensity.

“Mike, are you  _ jealous _ ?” Lucas was twirling his cup around and smirking. Mike frowned, his cheeks growing an even deeper red, and El couldn’t help but watch his face closely, too.

“No—”

“Then why’s your face so red?”

“Because of this stupid drink. ­­” ­

“So, you don’t think Toby was looking at El weirdly?” Max asked, and before Mike could stare at her, he gulped the rest of his drink straight down like water. His grip around her waist slackened suddenly.

“Of course, I do—”

“And you think that Toby doesn’t know that El Hopper is dating Mike Wheeler, as if it’s not common-fact at Hawkins High?”

“I’m sure he does but—"

Lucas scoffed and grasped at Mike’s shoulders. “So then, go and beat him at beer pong! I know you want to; I can see it in your face.”

“Well, you’re blind.” His words were slightly slurred, and El suddenly realized how the entirety of his cup was empty, hanging from his loose grip as hers remained half-full.

“C’mon Mike, what else do you want to do tonight? Dustin is half-dead, already boring Will to death, and I’m sure Max and El would love to watch us play beer pong instead of sit here listening to them, right?” Lucas turned to Max and El, handing them a hopeful grin.

Max shrugged. “I’d like to watch you _lose_ at beer pong.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but there won’t be any losing tonight.” Lucas. stood himself up from the couch and dragged Mike up with him, the way that Drew had done to him earlier. “Not from the two of us.”

Mike stared down at El, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight sway of his body. She reached out to grasp at his wrist, steadying him. El could see it in his face when their eyes met; the determination, the same sternness he had when he watched Toby eye her.

But she also knew what else Lucas was doing: trying to assure him that he could be good at something during a time where he felt so purely stressed — a time where he felt like he couldn’t really be good at anything anymore.

And she couldn’t quite tell if it was Lucas’ words, or the alcohol, or Toby’s lingering gaze on her — or maybe even all of it — but it was working.

“Okay,” Mike said steadily, his cup dropping to the ground with a light thud and an echo amidst the sounds of chattering and music. He clasped Lucas’ shoulders and said, “I guess let’s win this.”

* * *

They were using the same table that the seniors had used to roll a joint earlier, and El could still see green bits scattered across the hard-wooden surface as she stood behind Mike and Lucas. The both of them were pouring cold beer from cans into red solo cups, and opposite of them, Toby and Drew were doing the same, except their side of the table seemed to be crowded with letterman jackets and giggly girls with big, bouncing curls.

Toby had tied back his long, blonde hair, and El could see that his eyes were an eerie blue colour — like misty, shallow waters that reeked of nothing but the certainty of drowning. He was still staring at her, and as much as El couldn’t care, Mike clearly did.

He had taken off his jean jacket and let Will hold onto it while Dustin cried about Suzie by the island where the alcohol was. The sleeves of his pollo were shoved to his elbows, wrinkled blue against pale, freckled skin. It was half-tucked into his jeans, and he kept shoving his bangs out his eyes, though El knew what he _really_ needed was a haircut. He seemed angry, and maybe even a little drunk already.

El leaned towards Max, whispering lightly. “How does this game even work?”

“When someone from the opposite team shoots a ball into your cup, you have to drink it,” she said, holding one of the orange, plastic balls into her palm and trailing it into El’s. “The team who runs out of cups first loses.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t when you’ve got superpowers.” Max winked at her, and El laughed suddenly. They had both finished their drinks and Max had poured them seconds. El would be lying if she said she didn’t feel lightheaded at all. But that was all it was really, just a niceness that loomed over everything — a gentleness that wasn’t ever quite so apparent until you begged yourself to notice it. And so, when Max had asked if she wanted another one after their first, she couldn’t help but say yes, especially when nothing felt like it could ever go wrong.

“You boys ready?” Drew asked, that same wolfish grin glued to his face, and all El could think of was how stupid he looked.

Lucas looked back at El and Max, almost as if for reassurance, and only when El smiled did he turn back to say anything. “Yeah, let’s go!”

Toby had the first attempt, and El realized that it was the first time in which she hadn’t caught him staring at her all night. He squeezed the ball within his hand before he shot it, his elbow high above the table as it flew within the air and landed straight into one of the top cups on Lucas and Mike’s side.

Drew’s side of the table cheered, and as Toby high-fived one of the other boys, El caught him staring at her again. She shifted slightly, and turned her gaze towards Mike, who was staring at Lucas with wide eyes.

“We’re screwed, dude.”

“Shut up and drink it!”

“Why do I have to drink it first?”

“Just drink it, Mike, everyone’s staring!”

Mike looked around, and Lucas was right; everyone was staring. A small crowd had gathered to watch them, and she could see the tension within his eyes as they found hers. She offered him a reassuring smile, and before he could offer one back, he grabbed the cup that the ball had fallen into and gulped it down entirely.

“Nice, Wheeler!” Someone shouted, though El wasn’t quite sure who, and the crowd seemed to be cheering at how quickly Mike had chugged the beer. El didn’t get why — but when Mike pulled away, half-panting and somewhat distant-looking, his eyes seemed to beam brighter at the encouragements.

Lucas patted him on the back as he grabbed the orange ball from Mike’s fingers and began to aim it towards the opposite end of the table already. El barely paid attention when Lucas had gotten it in, because all she could focus on was the bubbliness that filled her chest,and the sounds of the cheering crowd, and the perfect normalcy of it all — and, of course, the way that Mike was smiling so brightly — a way she hadn’t seen him smile in weeks, since Nancy had gone to college, and since school started.

She took two big gulps down, almost like Mike had, and she didn’t quite catch onto what it was that Max had whispered into her ear just then — only that she was laughing, and that her breath smelled like cranberries and mint and Smirnoff.

She wasn’t quite sure how time had spun so quickly, but one moment, she remembered standing behind Mike and Lucas as they played, and the next, Will sitting her down in a chair by the island and insisting that she looked at him.

He looked funny with his face scrunched up — worried and careful, though there was nothing to worry about. Everything was perfect; how couldn’t he see that?

“El, you’re drunk,” he said, handing her a red solo cup. She looked into it, and it was filled to the brim with transparent liquid.

“That’s a _big_ shot,” she said, giggling. Max was leaning against her shoulder on the chair next to her, though she was only half seated against it.

“It’s water.” Will handed Max a cup, too, and she gulped it down as quickly as Mike had chugged his beer. “Drink it.”

El had no choice, because Will was staring at her in the way that Joyce stared at Hopper when she was stern, or mad, or convincing. She didn’t like that look.

Papa had that look, too, in his own way. Big, mean eyes — plain smile. Cold hands. She shivered. She wanted to see Mike.

“El,” Will called out, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged him aside — _she wanted to see Mike_ , and Will was covering the view of the boys at the table.

Everything was loud suddenly, and jumbled and messy. Will’s voice was mixed up with the song lyrics, and he suddenly sounded like _Abba_ , and Max’s hand against her wrist felt confining, and her fingers were cold. Cold like Papa’s. Cold like the ground of the lab, and the feeling of the walls pressed against her skin, and the chilliness of her room during the wintertime within those white, empty borders with so little creases in the paint, she used to memorize any type of crevice or flaw to keep herself from boredom.

She shoved herself out of Max’s grip, hard, and Max would’ve collided with the floor had it not been for Will keeping her on her seat by the island.

El walked forward; away from them — because suddenly, everything was cold, and she wasn’t sure why. The world was spinning, and faces began to blend together, and with every step she felt herself brush against the material of a sweater, or a t-shirt, or bare skin, and everything just felt cold and tight and confined and — Mike.

He was there. She saw him now. He was swaying, and his hand was shaking as it held the little orange ball, and she stared at him from where she was wedged between two groups of girls who were watching the beer-pong match with curious eyes.

Oh, she realized, he was going to shoot it. He looked nervous. Toby was eyeing him with mocking eyes, and El felt her blood boil — everything going from cold to hot within seconds.

She focused, and waited, and then finally when Mike shot the ball, she used her mind to guide it right into one of the few cups left on Drew and Toby’s side of the table.

Lucas jumped up, and Mike was gaping, dopey-eyed and cheerful as they bumped into a hug, and the crowd erupted into screams.

El only had a second to be happy before she felt the coldness again — worse this time. It was like when she’d taken the shot of vodka, except everything was cold instead of warm, and instead of feeling better it just got worse — ice pooling into the pit of her stomach rather than sunlight.

Blood trickled down her nose, but it was only when she tasted it on her tongue that she saw the flashes.

Papa’s cold face.

His icy hands.

The white uniforms the guards would wear.

The frozen water of the bath.

The feeling of Billy’s hands dragging her into his mind in the void.

Cold, frozen, icy.

“El!” It was Will again, but his voice was softer this time; a light at the end of the tunnel. “El, c’mon.” He was dragging her along behind him, and she noticed how Max was clinging to his other arm and she wondered where Dustin was as they crashed into bodies within the hallways.

Will tugged them up the stairs, and all El could really see was spotted darkness and hazy faces and suddenly — magically — she was on a bed.

She knew it was a bed, because the blankets below her were puffy, and there was a pillow under her head, and Max came to lie down next to her, the both of them looking up towards the ceiling.

Her fingers traced the material of the blankets. “Will,” she heard herself whisper.

“Yeah, El, you’re fine,” he said. He was taking off her shoes, she thought. “We’re in some room okay, it’s just me and you and Max. You’re fine.”

But she wasn’t. She never would be; not with her past. She couldn’t escape it; she could never be normal — not in the way she wanted to be.

“You were right. About my powers.”

“That doesn’t matter, El. You’re okay.”

She used her wrist to dab at her lip, and when she pulled it back, blood was trailed against the blue of her cardigan.

“I helped Mike win.”

“I know,” Will said. “I saw.”

“Will I ever be normal?” It barely came out — she wasn’t sure how it had — she didn’t want to say it out loud.

Will looked down at her suddenly, and she saw his hazy face above hers, his eyes piercing and kind within the light. “Well, if you were, then Mike would’ve missed his shot downstairs,” he said.

Max giggled sleepily next to her, and it was the last sound she heard before the darkness found her.

* * *

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that her head felt like it was on fire. The second was that Max was asleep on her shoulder, the tip of her cold nose wedged into her collarbone, her breath warm against her skin.

She moved, then groaned, and when she twisted her head to the side, she caught Will in an armchair by the bed with Dustin laying on the floor below it, his head pillowed on his arm, his mouth half-open and drooling.

“Will,” she called out gently, her voice hoarse and her body aching. He jumped within his seat suddenly, glancing across the room before making eye contact with El and sighing.

“Hey,” he managed, stepping up and coming towards her. “How do you feel?”

“Gross.”

“Do you need to throw up?”

She thought about it, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

Will nodded and smiled lightly. “That’s good!”

Max stirred against her; the arm thrown across El’s torso tightening. “What time is it?” She felt Max murmur.

“One thirty,” Will said. Max hopped upright suddenly, like she’d been struck by a bolt of energy.

“What!?” She groaned then, burying her head in her hands. “Oh my God, my head.”

“I know. We’ve gotta go soon — And we have to find Mike and Lucas.”

El froze. It’d been two hours since she last saw Mike — and she wasn’t even sure if he’d seen her while she guided him to a win at beer-pong.

“ _ Shit _ ,” She muttered and pulled herself out of bed. Her head was still spinning, but that didn’t matter — she needed to find Mike. She’d dragged him all the way here, begged for him to come, only for the two of them to get drunk and part ways for most of the night. Regret welled up within her chest, and she couldn’t help but feel terrible.

She rushed to put her converse back on, all while Max was still struggling to get up, and Dustin was still asleep, and Will was balancing between which one of them to help first. “I’ll meet you guys downstairs!” El managed, before tearing out of the room and running down the stairs.

There were people everywhere still — maybe more than there had been earlier. People crowded in the kitchen, and in the living room and waiting by the bathrooms. Couples wandering into closets, and friends helping each other throw up into garbage bags, but still, no Mike anywhere.

She was standing by the window in the living room when she saw it though; two shadowy figures by the sidewalk in front of the house, sitting under a streetlamp perched away from the cobblestone pathway, right where Steve had promised to pick them up.

She forced her way past crowds in order to make it out the door, and as soon as she reached the outside, she hadn’t realized how nice it was to feel fresh, cold air against her skin. The pavement was still wet from when it had rained, and the air still had that freshness to it. In comparison to the strong and heated smell of alcohol, it was so entirely refreshing.

She wandered towards them, half-running until she was close enough to hear their voices. Both of their backs were facing her, and both Mike and Lucas seemed to be drenched by gold as the streetlamp poured light their heads like melted starlight.

“What if she’s sick or something — what if she’s sick somewhere and —”

“Dude, I told you, she’s probably just with Will, Max and Dustin—”

Both their words were so slurred, El couldn’t help but sound cautious when she called out, “Mike?”

He twisted towards her suddenly and stood within seconds. His eyes were tired, and glossy, and his face was pink, and when he walked towards her, she wondered if he was going to fall. How much had he drank?

“ _El.”_ He said her name like it was made of treasure — precious and fragile and entirely perfect. And then he collapsed into her sluggishly, his arms encircling her body, and his head dipping down to bury his face against her shoulder, and his breath heavy and hot against her skin. “El, El, El.”

She buried her hands in his hair and held him there as his fingers clutched at her back, his lips peppering lazy kisses against her collar bone.

Lucas came up to them, and El could see the concern within his eyes from behind Mike’s bent shoulders. “El, where’s Max?”

“She’s—”

“Here!” It was Will who said it, because Max seemed to still be too tired to say or do anything but stumble into Lucas’ arms. Dustin was still swaying, his eyes unfocused and dreary — Will, however, seemed on top of the earth. Nothing could catch him off guard.

Mike pulled back suddenly to stare at her, and she could smell the beer on his breath. “We won, El! We, really, really won!” He said it giddily, like he was so purely proud of it.

“Doesn’t look like it, seeing as you’re drunk off your face,” Max commented, because as tired as she was, she still found the energy to argue with Mike.

“Well you’re  _ annoying _ , Max,” Mike slurred, wagging a finger towards her. “Ever thought ‘bout that?”

“We can’t bring him to his house like this,” Will said. “If his mom sees, she’ll flip her shit.”

“Well then it’s no use to bring him to my place,” Lucas claimed. “My parents are just going to tell them everything tomorrow.”

Will and El shared a glance — it wasn’t like El wanted to be anywhere else but with Mike, tonight, anyway.

Will sighed. “He’ll stay with us.”

“But Hopper—”

“Is dead asleep. Will’s mom will be up, and she won’t be too much of a hassle,” El claimed.

Mike smiled at her widely, suddenly — a stupid, drunk grin she couldn’t help but giggle at — then dropped his head back against her shoulder. “Thanks for keeping me,” he said.

“He’s like a dog,” Max laughed.

“He’s not a dog,” El said, though she was partially giggling, and she felt Mike laugh against her shoulder, too.

Just as Steve’s car pulled up by the sidewalk, all she could hear was Mike say, “I told Dustin that same thing about you once, y’know.”

* * *

  
  


Sneaking Mike inside wasn’t hard, even though he was still singing  _ Toto _ as he wandered into Will and El’s new Hawkins home. It wasn’t overly big — but they each had their own rooms, and the kitchen was pretty, and El and Will got to share a bathroom, which was cool, because Will was cleaner than she was.

They threw Mike onto El’s bed, and Will gave him a pair of pajamas and a glass of water, and they sat outside the bedroom door as he got changed, their ears pressed against the cold wood in order to hear in case something happened.

“Thanks,” El said suddenly. “For tonight.” She was dressed in her pajamas already, and her makeup had been scrubbed off, but Will still hadn’t changed.

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve saved me plenty of times — it’s only fair.”

El smiled and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Still. Thank you. I don’t know what any of us would’ve done if you didn’t stay sober.”

Will shrugged. “Dustin would’ve gotten you guys out of there safe and sound. Y’know, after throwing up five times.”

They both started to laugh — quietly, not to wake Hop or Joyce — but still whole-heartedly.

“’M done!” Mike called out a little too loudly from behind the door, and Will allowed himself to slip into the bathroom and El to slip into her room for the night. Her head was still aching, but not as much as her heart was when she saw Mike.

He was already under the covers, and he looked half-dead, like Dustin had on the floor of the party bedroom.

She crawled under the covers beside him and tried to curl into him, but he curled against her first. His head tucked itself against her shoulder, and his arm was thrown around her stomach, and their legs tangled together like magnets into place.

“Hi,” he said simply.

“Hi,” she said back.

He breathed against her. “I lost you tonight. Again.” He sounded tired — drowsy. She could still smell the alcohol on his breath, even after he brushed his teeth.

“It was only two hours.”

“Still.”

“Well, you found me.”

“No,” he said, then kissed her skin where he could reach it. “You did. Like usual.” 

She laughed, then brought a hand up to curl into his hair, tracing at his scalp. She felt him melt further against her.

“I’m sorry I dragged you out there tonight.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I needed it badly. I felt like…like…” he was losing his words, and that’s how El knew how gone he was. “I was drowning at home.”

“I know,” she said, “I’m sorry about that, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mike said. “You’re my favourite person ever.” He pressed another kiss to her collarbone. “ _Ever_ ,” he repeated, sternly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m happy you were happy tonight.” They were silent for a bit, and for a second she thought he’d fallen asleep until he spoke.

“Were you happy?”

She didn’t answer. She was happy for Mike — and she was happy she tried to do _something_ for once, and she was happy that for a certain part oof the night, everything seemed perfect. But there was a lot else — the flashbacks, the coldness, the drowsiness — the way she just used her powers in the middle of everyone so carelessly.

“El?”

“I…” How was she meant to say it? Mike was drunk, and tired, and they were both on the verge of sleep and this wasn’t how she wanted to talk.

Suddenly, she felt his head rise from where it sat against her shoulder, his eyes set on hers in the darkness. “  I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted it to be.” It wasn’t as slurred, but she knew he was still absolutely drunk, but for a second, it felt like he wasn’t — like it was already morning, and they were back to themselves.

“It’s okay,” she said, then echoed his own words from earlier, “It’s not your fault our lives aren’t normal.”

“But they are normal,” he said simply, with the sworn honesty of a drunk teenager. “To us.”

He leaned down to kiss her, properly, and she let him, even if it was just for a second. He tasted warm, and minty, and familiar, tied in with everything they’d drank tonight.

“You’re normal, El,” he promised. “You are.”

“Why can’t I believe that.”

“Maybe, we need to redefine what normal means.” he said, tracing his finger on her cheek, grinning. “Sometimes, normal means parties, and school, and friends. And sometimes it means, being sad, and chasing monsters, and having superpowers. That’s all — it’s just our normal.”

She laughed. “You’re too drunk to be smart right now.”

“Not my fault it comes naturally.” He planted himself against her shoulder one last time, and she felt him smile against her skin.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

“G’night,” he said. “Normal,” he then muttered sleepily.

“El?”

“Yeah?”

“You used your powers to make me win, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


End file.
